


An Impossible Choice

by godtier1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Major Character Injury, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Whump, cobb will be ok I super promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtier1/pseuds/godtier1
Summary: When Din meets an ex-bounty with a deep-seated grudge, he will be forced to pay the ultimate price.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 23
Kudos: 33





	1. At gaanader (To choose)

Cold. There was a chill in the air. It hit Din’s face hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and he realized he was not wearing his helmet. There was a stench, all around him, of mold and mildew and something that had been left to fester, just under the surface. Where was he? The colors in his vision were harsh and bright without the HUD in his helmet to dull them. He squinted, attempting to take in his surroundings. He was not given the luxury to dawdle, because the next thing he knew he was being slapped in the face hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“Rise and shine Mando,” a harsh voice answered. Din reeled back, breathing hard, as he looked for his assailant. There was a figure besides him, tall and dark and hooded. He could not make out their face. 

“He doesn’t even know where he is,” laughed a second voice, a second figure. Their voice was deep and boisterous and cruel. 

“Are you missing something, Mando?” A third asked, filling the room with laughter. 

It was then that Din’s senses caught up with him, and he truly saw the room for the first time. It was small, just him and the three hooded figures, and there was a panel of transparisteel in front of them. There seemed to be a room beyond the panel, but it was too dark to see. The floor was slippery under his boots. He didn’t want to know why.

As he felt the chill further permeate his bones, he realized two things at once, two startling realizations that made his blood run cold.

The first was that he was defenseless, his armor, helmet, and weapons nowhere to be found. He was left in his flight suit, practically naked for all intents and purposes. He felt the cold metal of his wedding band, the only other possession he was left with, and he had his second realization.

He did not know where Cobb and Grogu were.

He thought back, head swimming, to where he had last seen them. His family. They had been traveling back to Tatooine, where Cobb had some business back home in Mos Pelgo. They landed the Razor Crest in Mos Eisley for Peli to tend to and started on the two day ride to their tiny home town. Din sped down the dunes, with Grogu at his hip and Cobb at his side. 

Then the world was spinning, colors and sounds all too loud and too quiet all at once, like being underwater. Din must have been thrown from his speeder. Something had hit him, from behind and above. He vaguely registered a muffled yell, somewhere to his left. The sound of an explosion. And then darkness. 

Din was brought out of his reverie as he was punched hard in the stomach. He hunched over, wheezing, as a voice emitted from somewhere above them.

“Welcome Mandalorian. I doubt very much that you remember us, but we certainly remember you.”

Din froze, his face stinging and his stomach burning. He didn’t know this voice. Should he? A past bounty with a grudge perhaps? 

“The last we met, you took one of our brothers from us, and we were not given a choice. Today, however, we are feeling gracious.”

Bright, blinding light filled Din’s periphery, and the two rooms beyond the transparisteel were illuminated. In the room on the left, there were three hooded figures surrounding a tall, thin man, kneeling on the ground, a bag over his head. He had his hands cuffed behind his back. The room on the right was the same, except the man was replaced with a tiny figure, also with a bag over their head. Dread filled Din, from deep within his core, when it dawned on him what was likely going to happen next. 

The hooded figures pulled the bags from their captives' heads, revealing the huddled forms of his husband and their son.

While Grogu appeared to be relatively unharmed, he looked dazed and confused, and Din could see the beginning of tears about to fall down his chubby cheeks. Cobb, on the other hand, was looking worse for the wear. He had obviously put up quite a fight, unsurprisingly, but had still lost in the end. His scarf and shirt were torn, as were the knees of his pants. His nose was crooked and bloody, obviously broken, and there was blood matted in his hair. He had a wild look in his eyes as he whipped his head around, looking for Din and Grogu.

The voice from overhead spoke again, booming from above. “Today, we are feeling generous,” it repeated. “You may choose one. One will leave with you unharmed.” The implied statement rang in Din’s brain.

One of them wouldn’t leave there at all.

Din sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. His eyes moved frantically around the room, looking for an escape, for a weapon, for a way the three of them could all walk out of there in one piece. When he found none he looked to Cobb, and the panic on his face matched Din’s own.

“Oh, and if you try to fight back,” the voice said, “none of you will leave here alive.” Din felt the cold metal of a blaster push into his back, could hear it click as it was cocked. “You have three minutes to decide.” 

If Din hadn't been panicking before, he certainly was now. Sweat ran cold on the back of his neck, like standing in a frigid rainstorm. Breathe, he told himself. Focus. Stay calm. There had to be a way out of this. 

“Din!” Cobb shouted from below, his voice rough and nasally, presumably from his broken nose. “You know what you have to do! Take Grogu and get the hell out of here!”

Din shook his head, schooling his voice to something that didn’t sound scared and desperate. “I’ll figure this out, I won’t leave either of you. Just sit tight.”

Cobb looked at Din, a resolute sadness in his hazel eyes. What a terrible way for him to look. 

“Din, look around you. There’s nothing, no way out. Don’t be stupid, you have to act quickly. Choose Grogu and get out!”

Din looked to Grogu, who was full on wailing now. He was clearly frightened, seemingly alone and in danger. Din wasn’t even sure if Grogu could see him. He wanted to break the transparisteel, let Grogu know that he was ok, that he was safe. Cobb was right, though. There was only one correct choice here. 

But why did it feel so impossible? 

“Leave me!” Cobb was shouting. He tried to stand, tried to get to the transparisteel, to Din, but was roughly pulled back. He gagged, choking on his own scarf.

Din closed his eyes. Stay calm stay calm stay calm. Cobb could take care of himself, until Din could form a rescue party and come get him. He had survived worse. The thought made Din’s insides twist painfully.

“I’ll come back for you Cobb! I promise!” He shouted, fear creeping into his voice. “Just hold on!” His eyes locked with Cobb’s, his partner, his husband. Cobb couldn’t tear his gaze away, as if Din was giving him strength that he didn’t have himself.

“Is that your decision then?” Boomed the voice.

Din nodded, eyes not lifting from Cobb’s pale face.

Cobb sighed, relief washing over his features. Grogu was picked up by one of the armed figures, and was taken out of the room. 

“Where are you taking him?” Din asked, voice rising an octave.

“To a waiting room,” the overhead voice said. “He will be waiting there for you, safe and sound. When you are done here, you will leave this place with him, and you will not return.”

Din looked puzzled. “What do you mean? What else do you want from me?”

There was a moment of silence. The light in the right room dimmed, leaving Cobb’s room illuminated. Then the voice spoke.

“You are going to watch him die.”

Din felt a shudder run through him, and the reality of the situation finally settled over him, like a heavy weight in his stomach.

There wouldn’t be a rescue party. There wouldn’t be any coming back, not with Grogu’s safety on the line. Cobb was going to die here, and all Din could do was watch.

Was there really no other solution?

“Close your eyes Din! Don’t look!” Cobb yelled, hysterical. “I don’t want you to see this! Just worry about yourself, and Grogu! Just forget about me!”

Cobb was asking the unthinkable. How could Din forget him? His precious partner. His best friend. Cobb was everything to him.

Cobb tried to keep shouting to Din, until he was roughly shoved forward, his face slamming into the cold stone floor. 

“Don’t look away,” the voice whispered, sounding right next to Din’s ear. “These are the last moments you will spend with him. Commit this to memory, and remember who you are dealing with, the next time you take on a bounty from our brotherhood.”

As the beatings started, Din found he couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. And he did want to. But, despite Cobb’s pleas, closing his eyes felt like he was betraying him somehow, like he was leaving him to suffer alone. 

At first the blows were unarmed, fists and feet punching and kicking Cobb’s tense body. They held him up by his hair, watching him squirm, until they punched him in the stomach so hard he vomited. While he was still hunched over and retching, they kicked his legs out from underneath him and he fell to the floor, teeth clattering as he fell into his own vomit. 

They took a moment to laugh as he picked himself up, still intermittently gagging, until they decided they weren’t done with him. While he was down, they picked him back up by his scarf and held him there, slowly suffocating until they’d decided they were bored. They dropped him back to the floor in a heap, and Cobb gasped as he tried to fill his burning lungs with the stale air from this nightmare. 

Din had never felt so powerless. If it were just his life on the line, he would drop each of these fuckers where they stood, and break the transparisteel to get to Cobb. He would make each and every one of them regret the day they were born. But he had Grogu to think about, and the thought of the boy, scared and alone in the other room, gave him pause. 

One of the figures kicked Cobb in the mouth so hard Din could practically feel it too, vibrating down his jaw and spine. Cobb had his eyes squeezed shut and was breathing hard. He was gritting his teeth to stop the pained noises leaving his mouth. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“Aw what’s wrong? Aren’t you going to play with us?” one of the figures cooed.

“Yeah, we want to hear you scream! You’re being no fun at all!” chided the other. 

Cobb looked up at his assailants through a black eye that was beginning to bloom on his face. He snarled up at them, blood dripping down his chin. He spat on their shoes, more blood than saliva, and whispered, “fuck you.” 

For a moment there was no movement, like the second before a lightning strike. Din could hear one of the figures growl, and then they were lashing out, grabbing Cobb’s head and slamming it against the wall. There was a sickening crack, and Cobb seemed to lose consciousness for a moment as he slumped forward. When he opened his eyes again, he looked dazed. 

Cobb looked up at Din through half lidded eyes, and even from a distance it was obvious the man was concussed. His voice was so low that Din almost didn’t catch it when he said, 

“Don’t watch, Din. Please.”

Din felt his resolve crack. Before he could stop himself he stammered out, “that’s enough! Take me instead! Aren’t I the one you want anyway?” He was shaking, from both the fear and the un-suppressed rage filing his body.

He could see Cobb’s shoulders bristle down below, as he whispered, “Din, don’t…”

“Just let him go! He didn’t do anything!” Din yelled. It felt so unfamiliar, to be this angry. It was not something he was accustomed to.

“Hmmm…” the voice above breathed out. “No, I much prefer breaking you this way, Mandalorian. We have already been more than generous by letting you take one with you. If you fight us again, you’ll watch them both die.”

Din set his jaw so hard he could hear it click. He felt angry, frightened tears well up in his eyes. He was sweating through his flight suit, and his whole body felt like it was encased in ice.

“Strip him,” the voice said from above. Din’s heart leapt into his throat. The figures cackled as they converged on Cobb, dazed and bloody on the floor. He shuffled backward, hitting the transparisteel with a loud thud. But there was nowhere for him to go, no exit to run to. He looked over his shoulder at Din, looking like a frightened wild animal on the wrong end of a blaster. 

Din felt like he was in a nightmare, and he only needed to wake up. That he would be back in their bed when he did, in sunny Mos Pelgo, Cobb asleep on his chest. He would tell Cobb about his dream, and he would kiss Din’s dark head of curls. 

“Shhhhh Din, it was just a dream. It wasn’t real.”

Then Din would follow Cobb out of the room, watching as his husband made breakfast for them, humming as he worked. Grogu would wake, and he would be hungry, and they would eat breakfast together. 

Their clan of three. 

Din was startled out of his thoughts by a ragged scream, wet and frightened, as it reverberated over the stone walls. Cobb was naked, stripped to nothing, and they were cutting into his flesh now with knives, dissecting him like some sort of specimen. They held him down as they sliced through his abdomen, deep enough to see into the cavity inside. Din felt like his lungs had stopped working, like he couldn't get enough air. He was clearly hyperventilating, but they weren’t done with Cobb yet.

They let him go for a moment, laughing as they watched him scramble back once more. A game of cat and mouse. Din watched as Cobb held his stomach, trying to keep himself from coming apart at the seams. Blood was dripping out of him in thick rivulets, coating the floor and settling in between the stones. Cobb was panting, and it was clear that his fight response had changed to a flight response, like turning a switch. He must have known his time was short. 

They converged on him again, slowly, as he held himself around the middle, his hands coated in red. They brought the knife down as they slit his throat, careful not to go deep enough to kill him immediately, but enough to muffle his screams. His voice turned into something garbled and incoherent, an alien language Din didn’t speak. Practically inhuman. Blood was bubbling out of his broken throat, and with each breath he was choking on it. 

And then they had the audacity to laugh, as they turned him over, and saw the slave brand on the back of his neck. “Oh this will be fun,” they sneered, and they descended on him once again, tracing the five-point star with their knife. 

When they converged on his face, Din turned away, vomiting on the floor. He was disoriented, his vision fuzzy and gray around the edges. He couldn’t pass out. He needed to be here for Cobb. Couldn’t let him die alone. 

He sobbed through the bile in his mouth, as he screamed, “Cobb! I’m still here! I won’t leave you!” 

It felt like hours had passed, when in reality it had only been a matter of minutes. Just minutes to break Cobb, utterly and completely. They broke him down to something slightly more than an animal, but just less than a man. He was lying on the dirty, bloody floor, motionless and barely breathing.

In his last moments, he tried to lift his head, his eyes somehow still intact, and looked to Din, pleadingly. What his eyes were asking for, Din could not say. How he wished he could go to Cobb. Wished he could hold his hand, kiss his forehead, and tell him everything would be okay. How he wished he could carry him out of here, scrub all of the vileness from his body, and let him heal.

Cobb tried to speak, but only blood bubbled out of his mouth, matting in his beard. He looked exhausted, like looking to Din was taking every ounce of strength he was capable of. With the last of his resolve, Cobb smiled, and his lips formed the shape of words Din knew so well.

“I love you, Din.”

And then his head thudded back to the floor, his eyes looking at Din unseeingly. 

Din wailed, a scream full of rage and fear and grief. He screamed like the world was ending. Because to him, it was. He felt the walls closing in around him, felt the weight of the wedding band on his finger. He wished that the darkness of the room would engulf him, swallow him whole. Let him sleep for a thousand years. Sleep forever with Cobb.

The figures cackled as they picked up Cobb’s body like some sort of rag doll, and carried him unceremoniously from the room, leaving bloody footprints in their wake. The last thing Din saw of his husband was his hazel eyes half open in a pale, blood-soaked face. 

“Come on, let’s go,” one of the figures said, leading a sobbing Din from the room.

They lead him down a long, cold hallway, to a small room where Grogu resided. He was looking frantically around, and when he spotted his father he stirred, babbling nonsense and lifting his arms to be picked up. Din ran to him, picked him up, and sobbed harder. He held Grogu to his chest, the last of his family. Their now clan of two. 

They were led from the facility, to a pair of speeders parked outside. Din’s heart lurched into his throat at the sight of Cobb’s bike. He ran his hand along its side, like somehow it would bring Cobb back. Like suddenly the man would emerge from the building, alive and safe, and the three would continue their travels into the Dune Sea. Together.

When Din turned around, the figures were gone, the building impenetrable and the doors shut tight. His armor and weapons were with his bike. He felt rage bubble up inside him. All he needed to do was grab his beskar spear, get back inside the building, and slaughter them all. And then, (his heart did a sick sort of flip in his chest,) recover Cobb’s body. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by a sad, tired coo in his arms. Like air out of a balloon, the anger subsided. He had to get Grogu out of here. He couldn’t let Cobb’s sacrifice be for nothing. 

So he armored up, settled Grogu in the bag at his hip, and rode off. He gave one last look to Cobb’s speeder.

And he felt his heart shatter. Irreparable.


	2. Or’trikar (Grief)

The next two days were nothing more than a fever dream to Din. He couldn’t go to Mos Pelgo, it was too familiar. Too painful. Full of memories of first meetings and dragon slaying. Of quick goodbyes and quicker hellos. Of established domesticity and joint fatherhood. 

Of home. 

So instead he fled the desert, back to Mos Eisley. He barely spared a glance to Peli, flipping her the credits he owed her and taking off in the Razor Crest before she could get a question in edgewise. He entered hyperspace, and once he was sure Grogu was uninjured and settled into his hammock, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. He locked himself in the cockpit, and he screamed. 

Din and Grogu arrived on Nevarro before Din even realized he had put in the proper coordinates. They were greeted by Cara almost immediately, a wide smile on her face and her hands on her hips. 

As Din slowly descended the Crest’s ramp with Grogu in tow, Cara yelled, “Hey asshole! Wanna warn a girl next time you decide to show up unannounced?” She held her hands out to Grogu, who reached back for her, slightly despondent. Din barely acknowledged her presence. 

“Geez, what’s with you two? No hello?” She inclined her head to the Crest, “is Cobb still in there? Not even gonna give him a hand? What, are you two fighting or something? Having your first lovers spat? Are you-“

“Cara, enough,” Din said through gritted teeth, his modulator masking the distress in his voice. 

“Whoa,” Cara backtracked, putting both hands up in surrender. “What’s going on?”

Grogu cooed sadly, lifting his big eyes up to Din’s. There would be no hiding it. There was no masking Cobb’s absence. His presence was too large and warm. Without it, the air felt cold and stale.

“Cobb is dead, Cara.” He said flatly, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. 

She gasped in shock, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it again a moment later. After a few tries all that came out was, “How?”

And that was how Din broke down, a third time, sobbing on Cara’s shoulder and holding her like a lifeline. The HUD in his helmet fogged up as he cried, and there was a soft ringing in his ears. Like the whole world was off-kilter. 

She led the two back to her home, where she offered them food and rest. Despite the state he was in, Grogu still managed to wolf down all of his dinner, as well as half of Din’s. He felt painfully guilty at that moment. He had been too wrapped up in his grief, practically catatonic on the way to Navarro, that he had barely fed Grogu at all. 

“Din, you’re not going to eat?” Cara had asked, brows furrowed in worry. “You must be starving.”

He just shook his head slowly. He didn’t have the energy to eat. Or to talk. He had cried it all out on the walk here. Had screamed it out on the ship. For now, he just wanted to sleep. 

Cara nodded as she took Din’s dishes away. When she returned, she led the boys to a room where they could sleep for the night. As she turned to close the door behind her, she softly said, “I’m truly sorry, Din. Cobb was a good man. I’m sorry he’s gone.” And then, as an afterthought, “you can stay as long as you need.”

When sleep claimed Din, it was immediate and all-encompassing. He did not dream, just existed in the inky nothing in the space between his thoughts. And he was grateful. 

He woke, two days later, as Grogu lightly patted his cheeks with his tiny, three-fingered hands. Cara stood in the doorway. 

“Geez Din, you were starting to scare us. Thought you’d gone into a coma or some shit.”

He had gotten up, picked at a plate of food, and promptly returned to bed. This cycle repeated, day after day, for the next week. He knew he needed to get up, needed to care for his son, but it was as if his whole body was made of lead, like he was frozen in time. If he had stopped to acknowledge it, it would become real, and time would unfreeze. He would have to learn to live again, without Cobb at his side. And that was not something he was ready to face.

He was exceptionally lucky in the friendships he kept, specifically with Cara and Greef. Without question, they swooped in, made sure Grogu was cared for, and left Din to his solitude. Sometimes, in his few hours of wakefulness, he would catch a glimpse of Cara’s face, almost unreadable, but predictably worried. Greef’s expression mirrored her own.

But Din knew that Grogu would be ok, under the watchful eyes of his friends. So he allowed himself a small luxury, a rare selfishness. He allowed himself to sleep, without limitations, and without guilt. He slept until his body would no longer allow it, and then he slept some more.

The first two days, void of dreams, were blissful. But he knew they couldn’t last forever. Slowly, his mind remembered how to dream. These visions were slow at first, clumsy and meaningless. But then his brain became filled with images of warm, hazel eyes and light, airy laughter. 

It was painful. It hurt to look at him, at this pseudo Cobb. It felt so real, but was just off enough to unnerve him.

At first it was just his image. Just the sound of his voice. And, during his moments of more lucid dreaming, he could feel the weight of Cobb’s hand on his shoulder as he passed him on the way out of their tiny, shared home. Could feel the way his beard scratched Din’s cheek as they cuddled in their bed. Could detect that vague, earthy, windswept smell that was somehow all Cobb. 

These benign images turned into memories, like rewinding the reel of a holovid. He watched the scenes play out, sometimes in first person, and sometimes not.

He watched them defeat the Krayt Dragon together, fighting side by side. Watched as Cobb welcomed Din and Grogu into his home, as they tended to each other’s wounds. Watched as a day turned to a year.

He watched himself teach Cobb sign-language so he could better communicate with the Tuskens. He would scoot closer to the other man, as they sat on his couch, to correct a sign here or there. Their noses were practically touching, their breath mingling together. And then they were sharing their first kiss, soft and sweet. They had laughed, nervous but happy, as the adrenaline crashed through their veins.

And then he was watching a small, intimate gathering of people under Tatooine’s setting suns. Cobb had been holding Din’s hands, declaring his love for him. His smile had been bright in the oncoming dusk, and so full of emotion that Din had felt like he could faint. And even in his sleep, Din had felt the familiar shape on his finger. 

These memories were bittersweet, and they stung, like a rubber band snapped on this skin. But they were nothing compared to the anguish of the nightmares that would follow. 

They were all Cobb, laying on cold, hard stone, beaten and bloody. The glint of light off of a knife. The stench of mold, musty and metallic. The sound of screaming, loud and wet.

And then these memories, burned forever in his mind, would shift into images that were truly garish. He would see Cobb, vomiting so much blood onto the ground that Din would drown in it. As he suffocated he would hear Cobb’s broken voice say, “why did you leave me to die?” He would see Cobb’s face, barely more than a skull now, and he would whisper, “what will you do now that I’m gone?”

And Din would bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, his nightshirt soaked through in sweat. And a small body would press against him, cooing in that mysterious way that Din could not quite wrap his head around. And he would hold Grogu, and he would cry. Not the resounding sobs from the first day on Nevarro, and not the screams from the interior of the Razor Crest. He simply did not possess the energy for it. But he would cry nonetheless, soft and heartbreaking, as he held onto the only family he had left. 

By day seven of their stay on Nevarro (Maker, Cobb had been dead for a week now….) Cara would no longer allow Din to spend his entire days and nights in bed. She would sit him down for a meal, by force if necessary, and he would choke down what little he could stomach. She would leave for the day, with the express instructions to, “stay out of the bedroom. You need to rejoin the world of the living.” And then she would wince at her own wording, as she closed the front door. 

Din would putter around the house for a few hours at a time, trying to think of anything but his late husband. But he was reminded of him in everything he saw. He would look to the stove and see Cobb, humming softly to himself as he cooked for his family. He would pass one of Cara’s wooden figure decorations on a shelf and see Cobb, sitting at the kitchen table as he carved a figure of his own, undoubtedly a gift for Din or Grogu. And he would pass the darkened bedroom, with the shutters pulled tight. And he would see Cobb, breathless and sweaty underneath him, laughing as he kissed Din’s naked collarbone. 

It was all too much. Cobb was too ingrained into his life now, their souls interwoven in a way that could not be undone. For a few, desperate moments, he wished he had never met Cobb at all. Wished he had never come to Mos Pelgo. 

But in the end, he knew he didn’t truly want that. He had never expected to fall in love when he had met the marshal, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. His life, and Grogu’s, were both better off because Cobb had been in them. His heart pulled painfully at the thought.

Later that night he fell asleep, the lamp light from the street below filtering in through the windows. In his grief he could almost swear he could feel a pair of windswept, chapped lips kiss his forehead, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake.

The next day, however, something unexpected happened. The day started as usual. Din woke up, turning over to kiss his husband, and then feeling that cold, icy hand squeeze at his heart when he felt the absence in his bed. He got up, made sure Grogu was fed, and waited for Cara to come home.

Greef came by, late in the evening, knocking loudly on the door. Cara answered, exasperated, as she yelled “Dammit Greef, do you want to wake up the rest of Nevarro too? Fuck!”

Greef just stepped around her, loudly inquiring, “where’s Din? I need to speak to him immediately!”

Din jolted awake from where he had been dozing lightly on the couch, Grogu snuggled up at his hip. 

“Greef, what’s going on?” He asked, feeling the urgency of the situation. He wasn’t sure he could handle any more bad news right now.

And then… Greef smiled. Wide and exuberant. 

“Din, Cobb is alive.”


	3. Olaror tome (Come Together, Reunion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for descriptions of some nasty injuries, and as always mind the tags!

Din’s heart leapt into his throat. Surely he hadn’t heard Greef right…

“What did you say?” he whispered, trying desperately not to get his hopes up.

“Din, your husband is alive!” Greef shouted, clapping Din hard on the shoulder. “I have a contact out on Tatooine, out in Mos Espa. Heard it through the grapevine, and word travels fast. They’ve been trying to find you, to let you know.”

“I… where is he?” Din blurted out, feeling disoriented. He was dumbfounded. He felt like he was dreaming, and was afraid he would wake up any minute. Still, he couldn’t stop the smile that was creeping up his face. 

Somehow, against all odds, Cobb had survived. 

“I don’t have a lot of details, Din. But he’s in Mos Pelgo. And he’s safe.” 

Din stood up so abruptly that he just about knocked Grogu to the floor. He looked up at Din, blinking the sleep out of his huge eyes. He cooed softly.

“Grogu, Cobb is okay!”

Grogu giggled to himself, seemingly in understanding. Din looked to Greef, a question on his face.

“I need to go to him. I need to leave immediately. But…” He spared a glance at his son. “Can I leave Grogu here? With you? I don’t know what kind of shape Cobb is going to be in when I get back, and-“

“Say no more,” Greef said. “We can take it from here.” Greef and Cara smiled softly in tandem. “Of course,” Cara replied. “Go, be with Cobb.”

Din nodded his thanks, kissed the top of Grogu’s head, and retreated to the bedroom to gear up. 

As Din did up the clasps on each piece of his armor, he couldn’t stop the tears. He had thought he was done crying, that his body wouldn’t allow anymore of it. But Cobb was alive. He was safe and whole and Din was going to see him.

But as Din put on his boots and secured the spear to his back, he wondered. Would Cobb even still be whole? He had sustained some pretty tremendous injuries, even at a distance. Maker only knew what shape he was in now. And he had been slammed against the wall, and against the floor, repeatedly. Was there a chance of brain injury? Was there a chance he wouldn’t remember Din?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t think about that now. His only priority at the moment was getting to Tatooine. 

On his way out the door he gave Grogu one final hug, and whispered, “as soon as Cobb is well, I’ll bring you back to Mos Pelgo too.” Grogu gave a sleepy coo, snuggling further into Din’s arms. Cara and Greef smiled softly at the sight.

The trip to Tatooine was uneventful, but Din’s heart was hammering against his rib cage. His mind was racing, with thoughts of “what if Cobb doesn’t remember me? What if he hates me for leaving him for dead? What if he doesn’t even want to see me?” He knew he should sleep on the journey, that he would need all the strength he could muster for Cobb. But there was too much static in his head, too much anxiety in his heart. He paced the cockpit as the hours ticked by.

He landed the Razor Crest just outside of Mos Pelgo this time. He didn’t want to waste any precious minutes by taking the long way in, through Mos Eisley. When he departed the ship, he was greeted by a handful of familiar faces, all clearly happy and relieved to see him.

“Din! You got our message!” one of them shouted, shaking his hand forcefully.

“Where is he?” Din asked, getting right to business. He couldn’t bear the thought of Cobb being by himself for even another moment. 

The members of Mos Pelgo led Din to a small house on the outskirts of town, belonging to one of the senior members of the community who often acted as an impromptu healer. She was by no means a proper doctor, but in times when medical attention was warranted and there was no time to run to Mos Eisley, she would do.

She took one of Din’s hands into both of her withered ones. “Din,” she said, smiling softly, “I’m so glad you came back. When the Tuskens brought the marshal home, there was no sign of you or Grogu, so we feared the worst.”

“How is he?” Din asked, voice clipped. He was suddenly anxious again, terrified of what he was about to see. 

The healer clicked her tongue thoughtfully. After thinking for a moment, she said, “he’s seen better days. Follow me.”

Din was led through a hallway to a bedroom at the back of the house. Before going in, the healer said, “I’m not trying to be indelicate here, but the marshal is in pretty bad shape. He’s extremely lucky to be alive.”

Din nodded solemnly. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for him. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

The healer shook her head. “You and the marshal have done so much for this town, it’s the least I can do.” She paused, and then said, “We’ve sent to Mos Eisley for someone with more medical training than I’ve got, they should be here in a couple of days. We’re worried about infection and proper healing at this point.” She looked to Din seriously. “He’s not out of the woods yet.”

Din swallowed around the lump in his throat. He grasped the door handle to the room where Cobb was staying, took a deep breath, and entered. 

The sight that greeted him was nothing short of overwhelming. His chest heaved painfully. There, on a large bed in the center of the room, was Cobb. 

The other half of his heart.

Cobb was pale, too pale. He blended in against the plain white bedsheets. He was mostly covered by a thick blanket, but Din could imagine that a good deal of this torso was probably in pretty bad shape. His nose was crooked, like it had been broken too long to heal properly, and his face was littered with superficial cuts. There were bandages that ran the length of his head, validating Din’s fears of a head injury. Cobb’s throat was completely covered in a thick layer of gauze and bandages, and he could see blood already starting to leak out around them.

To Din’s surprise, Cobb was awake, and while he looked more exhausted than Din had ever seen him, he seemed alert. Focused even. His eyes turned to Din, and he smiled, tired and relieved. 

Din crossed the room in two long strides, removed his helmet, and was embracing his husband before he even had time to think about it. He sobbed into Cobb’s shoulder, whispering to him with each shuddering breath.

“You’re alive, I can’t believe it.” 

“I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I’m so sorry I left you.”

He wasn’t sure if he was making any sense, but Cobb seemed to understand, as he placed his hands on either side of Din’s face, and lightly kissed his forehead. It was then that Din noticed that Cobb’s face was glistening with tears as well.

“Cobb I’m so… I’m so glad to see you. How are you feeling? 

A moment of silence eclipsed them, and Cobb sighed. He lifted his shaking hands and made the sign for “tired.”

Din froze. Cobb hadn’t made a sound since Din had entered the room. He looked to Cobb’s bandaged and still bleeding throat, a question playing on his lips.

“Cobb, can you…?”

Cobb sighed again as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He signed, “my voice is broken. I can’t speak.” 

Din’s insides turned to ice, and all he could think of was Cobb’s muffled sobs as he tried to scream through a slit throat. In that moment, he was grateful he and Cobb both had a reason to know sign language.

Slowly, carefully, Din asked, “your voice…. will it come back?”

Cobb blinked slowly, sadly. He made the signs for “I don’t know.”

Din wasn’t sure how he should feel. Overwhelmed, mostly. He was concerned, seeing his husband looking so fragile and exhausted, his usually larger than life personality eclipsed by pain and fatigue. He was sad, worried that he’d never hear Cobb’s voice again. That he’d never hear him laugh or hum or sing. But most of all, he was grateful. Relieved that he was alive, and that with time, he would heal. 

Din took Cobb’s hand in his, and gave it a tight squeeze. “That’s ok,” he said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Cobb looked unsure for a moment, as he signed, “You’ll stay?”

The look on Cobb’s face broke Din’s heart, as did the question he was asking. Din smiled and nodded. “Of course, I’m your husband and I love you. I’m not going anywhere. And when you’re feeling better, I’ll bring Grogu home too.”

Cobb smiled, softly and sincerely. He made the sign for “I love you too.”

Din and Cobb chatted long into the evening. Din found out that Cobb had been abandoned in the desert, believed to be dead by his captors. 

“Lucky for me they’re dumbasses,” he signed to Din, chuckling soundlessly. “Guess they don’t know how to check for a pulse?”

“Evidently not,” Din agreed. 

“Tuskens found me. Brought me back here. Scared the shit out of everyone,” Cobb continued to sign. “No one knew where you were. Thought you were dead.”

“I should have come back to Mos Pelgo from the start,” Din lamented. “But I just… couldn’t. It was too painful. I needed to get off planet.”

Cobb nodded sympathetically, resting his hand against Din’s for a moment. “I understand,” he signed. “That must have been hard. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine. I should have figured out a way to save you. There must have been something else I could have done, I let myself panic, and you almost died, and I-“

Cobb brought a hand up to Din’s cheek and gave it a small pat. “Breathe,” he signed. “This wasn’t your fault either.” He looked thoughtful as he continued. “You were put into an impossible situation. You did the right thing.”

Tears were falling from Din’s eyes again. “I left you…”

Cobb looked squarely into Din’s eyes, both kind and firm, as he signed, “you did what you had to do.” Then he kissed Din’s knuckles, one at a time. “I’m proud of you.”

By the time the suns had long since set, Cobb’s fatigue had proven to be too much for him. He kept nodding off, sometimes mid sign. Din chuckled to himself. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Cobb’s mouth, which startled him awake. 

“Fuck, you scared me,” he signed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Din replied, elated laughter bubbling out of his throat. He was so full of relief, he barely knew what to do with himself. His body was practically vibrating.

“You should sleep, Cobb. We can talk more in the morning.”

Din made to get up, to find a chair or a spot on the floor to sleep on, but Cobb tapped Din’s knee to get his attention.

“Sleep here?” He signed, patting the space on the bed besides him.”

Din thought for a moment. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, cyar’ika? I don’t want to jostle you too much.”

Cobb made the sign for “please?”

Din smiled as he relented. “Ok, but if I hurt you at all, just tell me and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Cobb nodded as he shuffled out of the way. He pulled a corner of his blanket up, a silent invitation for Din to join him underneath. 

Din gingerly laid on the bed, sliding in under the blankets next to his husband. He caught a glimpse of Cobb’s shirtless torso underneath, and even the momentary glance at the bloody bandages around his stomach was enough to make Din queasy.

Cobb tapped Din on the shoulder and signed, “you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Din replied, trying to keep the image of Cobb, split open and hemorrhaging, far from his mind. He laid back against the pillows, and Cobb leaned against him as much as he was able. He felt Cobb sigh besides him, deflating entirely. He took hold of Din’s left hand with his right one, and squeezed gently. Din kissed the top of Cobb’s head. 

“You were really brave back there, you know that?” Din whispered. “You kept me and Grogu safe. Thank you.”

Cobb gave Din’s hand another squeeze in acknowledgement. And then his breath was evening out, losing himself to sleep. 

Din followed soon after.

Din was falling. He was falling, and he landed somewhere in the dessert, far from civilization. There was a trail of blood in the sand. He followed it, dread filling his stomach, and he gasped audibly when he came upon Cobb, lying in a pool of his own blood, seeping into the dunes below. His gut was ripped upon, insides spilling onto the earth. He lifted his head, looking to Din, face calm and unreadable.

“You left me,” he said, monotone. “You left me, and now you want forgiveness.”

“Yes,” Din breathed. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything, anything to atone-“

Cobb laughed, low and cold. “I can’t even speak, and he wants forgiveness. Can you believe that?”

Suddenly there were three hooded figures raising out of the sand, materializing out of nowhere. They were descending on Din.

“I want you to feel what I felt Din,” Cobb said, blood spilling out of his mouth. “I want you to feel how alone I felt. How alone and cold and desperate. I want you to feel pain.”

And how could Din argue with that? It was what he deserved, after all. He kneeled in the dunes, head bowed, and waited for the first blow. The figures reached him, pulling out their knives….

But instead of pain, he felt a firm grip on his arm. He startled awake with a scream, falling for real this time, out of bed, onto the cold sandstone floor. He looked around in the dark, dazed, as he waited for his vision to adjust. It was quiet, save the rustling of the bedsheets above him. He picked himself up, and there was Cobb, looking at him like he had tried to get up, to go to Din on the floor, but couldn’t. He looked frightened. 

“S-sorry, I’m sorry Cobb. Nightmare.” Was all Din gave by way of explanation. 

He slid back under the blanket, and Cobb immediately took his hand, squeezing hard. He was looking at Din expectantly. 

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Cobb released his hand, raising both of his to start signing, but lowered them a moment later, seemingly at a loss for words. He nodded instead, then hovered his hand above Din’s shoulder, waiting for permission to touch. Din laughed.

“You already touched me, love. But yes, it’s ok if you keep touching me.”

Cobb nodded again, resuming his position of leaning against Din’s broad chest. His shoulders slumped, clearly tired.

They fell asleep like that, each to their own restless slumber. 

Din awoke the next morning, feeling the complete opposite of refreshed. Light from the twin suns outside was spilling across the bed, illuminating Cobb’s pallid   
face. He was awake, blinking slowly in the still morning air. He must have sensed Din waking up, because he turned his head slightly, and smiled. 

“Good morning Cobb,” Din said with a yawn. 

Cobb made the signs for “good morning husband.” Din grinned. When they had first married, Cobb would call Din “husband” every chance he got, a cocky smile on his face. He knew Cobb was just being cheeky, but Din still got shivers up his spine each time he called him that. In return, Din would call Cobb “riduur” or “mir’sheb.” When Cobb would ask “which one is husband, and which one is smartass again?” Din would just smirk and say, “you’re smart, figure it out.”

“Are you feeling ok? Do I need to fetch the healer?” Din said, suddenly worried he jostled Cobb too much with his nightmare. 

Cobb brought a hand to his throat, and then lifted the blanket to inspect his abdomen. He signed, “I think my bandages need to be changed.” He paused, and then made the sign for “sorry.” 

“Hon, don’t apologize. I’ll go get her right away.” He replaced his helmet and left the room.

A few minutes later Din reappeared with the healer and a pitcher of water in tow. 

“Alright Din, I’ll need your help here. Just follow my lead and I’ll tell you what I need from you,” she said, taking the blanket from Cobb and placing it at the foot of the bed. Cobb immediately started to shiver, a full body shake that left his teeth chattering.

“He’s light, but I still can’t lift him and change the bandages at the same time. I’ll need you to hold him up while I take them off.”

Din nodded, suddenly nervous. He had patched himself up on multiple occasions throughout his life, and on Cobb too for that matter. But this was different. Cobb had never been hurt like this before.

“Alright, here we go. Are you ready, marshal?” she asked.

Cobb nodded, his face going impossibly paler. His body tensed when Din touched him. He put a hand around his shoulders and under his back, and lifted him gently. The healer got to work, removing the soiled bandages. Cobb’s face was screwed up, and he was holding his breath. He was obviously in a lot of pain. 

“Breathe, cyare. Deep breaths now,” Din said softly, masking the anxiety in his voice. 

Once the bandages were off, the healer got to work on prepping the new ones. The sight of Cobb’s exposed belly made him want to throw up.

He had known, from a distance, that the cut had been deep. But he couldn’t have guessed how jagged and not clean it had been. It was red, and bloody, and angry. It had been sewn up, crudely, but the stitches looked like they were barely keeping his stomach shut. Like one wrong move was all that stood between Cobb being whole and having a bed full of intestines. 

“Go ahead and put him down for a moment Din,” the healer said. She looked to Cobb apologetically. “You know the drill. This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.”

Cobb nodded, his face pinched. She started to clean out the wound, remarking to Din that, “we don’t have a lot of bacta on hand at the moment, so this is pretty watered down unfortunately. Will still hurt like a bitch though.”

As she cleaned, Cobb’s breath hitched, and Din realized with horror that he was quietly sobbing, tears traveling down his sunken cheeks. Din hurried to his other side and gripped his hand tight. He brushed away Cobb’s tears with his free hand. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. Almost over. You’re doing so good, hang in there,” Din soothed. Cobb’s breathing was erratic, and if Din had to guess, the man would be moaning if his vocal chords hadn’t been torn to shreds. 

“There we go,” the healer remarked, sighing to herself. “That doctor better show up quick. He really needs proper stitches. Maybe even full on surgery.” A pause, and then, “lift him again for me Din, will you?”

The process of putting on new bandages seemed to be less painful than cleaning out the wound, but Cobb still ground his teeth, jaw set tight and eyes closed, until the job was done. Din breathed a sigh of relief, until the healer said, “ok, now time for your throat.”

The entire process of cleaning Cobb’s wounds and changing his bandages took hours. By the time they were done, it was past mid-morning. Cobb had fallen asleep almost immediately after they finished, barely giving Din a chance to help him sip on some water. 

Din stepped out of the room, following the healer. “That was rough,” he said, concern lacing his voice.

She nodded, and said, “I don’t know what happened to you two out there, but I’ve never seen injuries quite like this. He really needs more help than I can give, at a proper medical facility. But it’s too dangerous to move him right now.”

Din tapped his fingers on his thigh, then said, “he’ll be ok though, right?”

The healer paused, looking out the window. “I can’t say for sure. I know you already lost him once, Din. But I can’t guarantee he’ll survive. There’s still too much that could go wrong. Infection is a big concern. And if the stitches in his belly open up again, he’ll likely bleed out. Not to mention the fact that he probably will never speak again.” She turned to Din sadly. “I don’t want to get your hopes up is all I’m saying. Cherish the time you have with him.”

Din felt his insides go cold. He nodded to the healer, and then excused himself to return to Cobb’s side. 

Cobb was exactly as Din had left him. He looked peaceful in his sleep. Painless even. His breathing was slow and even, keeping time with the rise and fall of his chest. 

Against his better judgment, Din let his anxiety get ahead of him and reached out to grab Cobb’s wrist, feeling the pulse there. It was weaker than he would have liked, but it was there. He counted Cobb’s heartbeats, trying to calm himself down. 

Cobb stirred, and cracked an eye open. He slowly stole his hand back, and signed “you ok?”

Din felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall, but he blinked them back. 

“I’m ok,” he replied, voice wavering. “Just… hang in there, ok? Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Cobb grinned up at his spouse. He signed, “can’t go anywhere right now. Can’t get up.”

Din laughed, too loud for the quiet of the house. “You’ve always been such a smartass, Cobb.”

Cobb’s eyes softened, looking fondly at Din. He made the signs for “I’m your smartass.”

Din nodded. “That you are.”


	4. Umaan (Difficult, Complications)

A day passed before the doctor from Mos Eisley arrived. Two of them arrived, in fact, with a handful of their assistants in tow. Apparently Cobb had done them a favor, once upon a time, and they felt indebted enough to make the long journey to Mos Pelgo.

The night before their arrival, Cobb had started running a low-grade fever, and their fears of infection were coming to light. Din stayed up the entire night, trying to keep his husband cool and comfortable. By the morning, Cobb’s face was glistening with sweat, and his bandages were oozing through the thick layers of gauze. Din sat on the edge of the bed, backlit by the light of early dawn, as he dabbed at Cobb’s brow with a cool rag. 

“Sorry,” Cobb signed, hands unsteady. It was becoming more difficult to understand him, the more his hands shook. 

Din lightly took his hands and lowered them back to the blanket. “Stop apologizing. Just relax.”

When the medical team arrived, they wasted no time in assessing Cobb’s health. They shooed Din out of the room, saying they needed space to work. Din paced the length of the hallway connecting Cobb’s room to the rest of the house. He would make a lap, check the time. Make another lap, look out the window to check the weather (it was hot, dry and sunny. Like always.) The healer shooed him away as well, telling him to, “stop that, you’re going to wear a hole in my floor.” She suggested Din go home, use the sonic and eat some food. Din hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with being too far from Cobb’s side, until the healer insisted.

Entering his and Cobb’s and Grogu’s shared home somehow felt like a slap in the face. A reminder of the normalcy their lives lacked right now. There was a thin layer of sand and dust accumulating by the front door and the windows. Had they really been gone so long? 

Din walked to the refresher, passing the kitchen table. There were a few tools and some broken pieces of metal laying there. Cobb must have forgotten to put whatever he was tinkering with away before they left on their trip. And on the small couch in the living room was Grogu’s small stuffed bantha that they had purchased while on a trip to Mos Espa. When Grogu had reached out his tiny fingers to it, Cobb had begged Din to buy it, saying, “Aw look at him Din, he’s breaking my heart. We can’t NOT buy it!” Din ran his fingers through the floof on the tiny toy, chuckling at the memory. 

The sonic was refreshing to Din’s tired, aching body, but did little to quell the anxiety buzzing at the back of his mind. He stood there, longer than was probably necessary, his thoughts on his little family. He thought of Grogu, back on Nevarro with Cara and Greef. Was he getting enough to eat? Was he warm enough at night? Were they sure to play with him? 

But mostly his thoughts strayed to Cobb. His cocky, headstrong, gentle Cobb. Pale and shaky in bed, without the strength to even properly sit up. Din knew how much he hated being an inconvenience to others. Knew how hard this must be for him. Din wished he could impart on just him how much his sacrifice meant to him, and to Grogu. Wished he could take Cobb’s pain unto himself. 

And then his thoughts began to spiral, back to the headspace he had lived in for the better part of a week on Nevarro. Cobb would survive, wouldn’t he? And Din would hear his voice again, singing Grogu to sleep at night…

Wouldn’t he?

Din was startled out of his thoughts by noises at the front door. He quickly changed into something loose and comfortable, along with his helmet, and went to investigate. There was a gaggle of familiar children there, locals from around Mos Pelgo. The little girl in front was smiling up at Din, gap-toothed, and holding a small plant.

“Din! You’re back!” She exclaimed. “We have a present for the marshal! Will you give it to him?” She held out the plant to Din.

He smiled. What a kind gesture. Everyone loved Cobb. It was a wonder that he had still been single when Din first came to Mos Pelgo. During Din and Grogu’s first week with him, Cobb has confessed how lonely he was. Din could never quite wrap his head around that. 

“Of course, I’ll bring it to him right away,” he said, patting the girl on the head.

Another child spoke up, saying “where’s Grogu? I miss him!”

“He’s not with me right now. But he’ll be back. Promise.”

The children seemed satisfied, waving as they ran off to play.

After scarfing down a quick lunch, Din returned to the healer’s home, nervous for the news he was about to hear. She was just inside, speaking in hushed tones with one of the doctor’s assistants. When they spotted Din they stopped, twin looks of pity on their faces. Din’s lungs seized up in his chest.

“Din, you’re back,” she said softly. “Come, sit with us.” She led Din and the assistant to her living area, and Din sat slowly on one of the chairs, back straight and rigid with nerves.

“He’s in worse shape than we thought, Din. The doctors think he’s going into septic shock. They’re operating on him right now.” She sighed, low and sorrowful. “There’s not much we can do now but wait. It’s going to be up to Cobb’s body to fight this off.” She locked eyes with Din. “His vocal chords are beyond saving though. I’m sorry.”

Din tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but struggled to do so. He felt deja vu all over again. Would he be forced to watch Cobb die a second time? Slower this time, more prolonged and less dramatic. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. It hurt too much.

But there was nothing he could do now but wait and trust that the doctors knew what they were doing. Trust that Cobb’s body would keep fighting. Trust that fate would smile, and impart on them a rare blessing. 

Time marched on, and hours passed. Din had taken to pacing the halls again, and this time no one had the heart to stop him. He knew he should rest. Should try to stay calm. But what was he supposed to do, when his husband could be dying in the next room?

Finally there was shuffling behind the bedroom door, and the doctors and their team stepped out, looking fatigued. Din stopped in his tracks, looking to them with terrified optimism. 

“Is he, will he be ok?” Din whispered. 

The younger of the two doctors wouldn’t meet Din’s eyes, averting hers to a crack in the floor. The elder of the two met Din’s gaze, and said, “if he can fight off the infection, he will heal with time. We’ll stick around for a few days to keep an eye on his progress.” His face softened as he said, “he’ll sleep for a while yet, but feel free to join him.”

Din nodded his thanks, and stepped around the medical team to rejoin his husband.

The room smelled like bacta and blood, metallic and antiseptic. Cobb was right where Din had left him, except for now his bandages looked much more clean and professionally dressed. There was a wet rag lying on Cobb’s forehead, partially obstructing his eyes. His breathing was shallow and wheezy, like wind through a cracked window. Din placed the present from the local children on the bedside table, took up his bedside vigil once more, and waited.

In the hours leading up to dusk, Cobb’s temperature skyrocketed. When he finally woke, shortly before Tatoo I’s final descent from the sky, he was drained of energy and deeply confused. He seemed to forget for a moment that his vocal chords were permanently out of commision, because when he took a breath to start speaking, a horrible sort of wheeze left his lips, leaving him to cough violently into his pillow. Din jumped from his spot at Cobb’s side, clearly startled, before grabbing the pitcher of stale, room temperature water from the bedside table and pouring some into a small glass. He eased Cobb into sitting up, as much as he was physically able, and brought the cup to his mouth. Cobb took a few small sips and seemed to calm down, if even just a bit. 

He stared at Din, eyes unfocused and mouth slightly open, before realization seemed to dawn on him. With shaking hands he signed, “hello husband.” He leaned back heavily against the pillows, too exhausted to even smile. It broke Din’s heart. 

“Hello riduur,” Din said fondly, pushing Cobb’s hair back from his face. Cobb closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with a sigh. “Do you know where you are, love?”

Cobb slowly shook his head. A phantom knife twisted in Din’s gut. 

“We’re in Mos Pelgo, and you’re safe. You just had surgery a few hours ago, and it went well.” Cobb blinked a few times, slowly, up at his spouse. Din continued, “if you're feeling confused, it’s because you have a very high fever. Is there anything you’d like me to explain to you?”

Cobb closed his eyes again, and Din thought he had fallen asleep. But a moment later he signed, “where is Grogu?”

“He’s safe, with Cara and Greef, on Nevarro. Once you’re well again, I’ll bring him home.”

Cobb nodded, before beginning to sign again.

“My stomach hurts.”

Din put a hand on Cobb’s cheek, caressing softly with his thumb. 

“I know. I’m so sorry. I can’t give you any more pain medication for a few more hours. I’m going to need you to hang in there for me, okay?”

Cobb let out a pained breath, nodding solemnly. He lifted his hands to begin signing, thought better of it, and brought them back to his chest, fidgeting slightly.

“Do you need something?” Din asked, worry etched on his face. Cobb just stared at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought, anxiety embedded in his every movement. He fiddled with his wedding ring, twisting it under his fingers. 

“Cobb?”

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Cobb turned his head in Din’s direction. He looked conflicted and frightened, but more lucid now. He began to slowly sign.

“I’m sorry Din. You didn’t sign up for this. If this is too much for you, you don’t have to stay. I won’t think any less of you.”

Din felt like he had received an electric shock. Did Cobb really believe he would leave him, now of all times? He chose his next words carefully, afraid he would set his husband’s mind to spiral downward even further. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.” He grinned, hoping Cobb would mirror him. He didn’t. Instead he looked on the verge of tears.

He signed, faster now, “Life is going to be different now, isn’t it? If things are bad now, how will they be in a month? Or in a year? Are you sure you still….” He took in a shuddering breath before finishing. “Are you sure you still want me?”

Din had heard enough. He leaned over, took Cobb’s face in both of his hands, and looked him straight in the eyes. 

“Cobb Vanth-Djarin, you listen to me. I saw you die. Do you understand? I saw those men do unspeakable things to you, and there was nothing I could do. And for a week, the longest week of my life, I thought I’d never see you again. I dreamt of you, and I ached for you. And I didn’t know what to do.” He pressed his forehead to Cobb’s, felt the fever radiating off of him. 

“I’ve never felt so lost and alone. Ever. I never want to feel like that again. So yes. I still want you. I will always want you, always need you. I don’t care if you’re hurt, or if you’re sick, or if you grow older. I will always, always want you.”

Cobb closed his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. Din held him, as much as he was able, as he quietly cried. It was then that it finally dawned on Din how much healing Cobb would need to do not only physically, but mentally as well. If Din had been having nightmares about the incident with the hooded figures, how had it been for Cobb? Was he also reliving that day, in brilliant technicolor, over and over again each night? 

Din pulled back, taking in Cobb’s appearance. He barely looked like the same man he’d married, all those years ago. Besides the obvious injuries, the pallor that comes with fever, and the dark eye bags that come with exhaustion, his eyes looked haunted. Distressed. 

But he was still Cobb.

Din pulled away from where he had been embracing his husband. “Do you believe me when I say I won’t leave? And that I still love you?”

Cobb shrugged, eyes downcast as he picked at a loose thread on his blanket. Din sighed. 

It would take time, but Din made a silent pact that night that he would make Cobb believe it.

Now if only he could ensure his survival first.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm godtier1 on tumblr! Please come chat with me about Din x Cobb!


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